I found out his name was Alex through his ID which he probably tossed at the edge of the couch even before the apocalypse. And for some odd reason, I thought Greg would have suited him much better.
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, finishing off the canned beans he had tossed to me earlier, still half-warm from the bit of heat I had managed to scrape together. The flavor was bland and tinny, and I wasn't sure if the ache in my stomach was from hunger or the anxiety that had become as constant as breathing since I had ended up here. But I knew one thing—this was the best I could get, and I didn't dare complain.
As I was halfway through the last bite, the sound shattered the eerie silence. Someone—a man, I thought—was running, shouting, his footsteps pounding through the hallway outside.
"Help! Somebody, please, help!"
My blood turned to ice as I froze, spoon halfway to my mouth. Every nerve in my body was suddenly alert, like my brain had hit an alarm button, and I could feel every beat of my heart pounding in my chest.
The man outside was banging on doors, moving down the hallway, and the noise was so loud it seemed to echo through the entire building. He was screaming and crying, his voice filled with a desperate fear that sent chills down my spine.
Alex door swung open, and he stomped out, muttering a string of curses under his breath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He was pacing, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes darting back and forth as though searching for something.
Whoever was out there was panicking, pounding on door after door, and I knew as well as Alex did what that meant. That kind of noise, that level of panic—it was a death sentence. Those things would come, drawn by the sound like sharks to blood.
I felt my breath hitch as fear wrapped its cold fingers around my throat, squeezing tight. This building wasn't secure, and if those things got in, they wouldn't stop until they found every last person.
The pounding grew louder, closer. Then it was right outside our door.
"Help! Please!" the man was crying, his voice cracking as he pounded his fists against the door, each hit like a jolt to my system.
Alex's face twisted in anger, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might break. He moved closer to the door, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
"Get the fuck away from my door!" he half yelled, his voice sharp and filled with an authority that made me shudder.
"Please…" The man's voice was desperate, broken, and he started banging even harder. "I don't wanna die—please, let me in!"
But there was no sympathy in Alex's face, only anger and a thinly veiled terror. He backed away from the door, his hands shaking. I pressed myself against the wall, shrinking into the shadows, wishing I could disappear entirely.
Then the man's screams turned to something else—a horrible, gut-wrenching sound that I couldn't even begin to describe. It was part scream, part choke, as if he was being strangled from the inside out.
And then came the crunching.
I clamped my hands over my mouth, biting down on my fingers to keep from making a sound. I wanted to look away, to block out the horror, but the gruesome noises were impossible to ignore. The sickening crunch of bones, the wet squelch of tearing flesh.
He kept screaming, his voice growing weaker, fading with each second, but still trying to plead. "Ahh—help—please—"
But then his voice died entirely, leaving only the sound of something…eating. It was hungry, messy, like it was tearing apart a piece of raw meat with no care, just desperate to consume. I felt bile rise in my throat, my whole body trembling as I forced myself not to throw up.
My brain tried to shield me, to go numb, but every sickening noise stabbed straight into my mind. I knew, without seeing it, what was happening. I could picture the man lying there, the life leaving his body as those things fed on him, ripping into his flesh with a horrifying, eager brutality.
And then came another sound—running, not just one set of footsteps but a whole crowd of them, rushing down the hallway. My heart plummeted as I realized it wasn't just one of them out there. There were many.
The new footsteps were heavier, faster, with a wild, frenzied energy that made my skin crawl. The hallway filled with the sound of their feet thundering closer and closer. I couldn't tell how many there were, but the noise alone made it clear there were more than just a few.
The creatures were converging on our door, drawn by the man's dying screams and the scent of fresh blood. I heard them skittering closer, their movements unnervingly quick, and it wasn't long before I could hear their claws scraping against the floor, a sharp, grinding sound that made me shiver.
A loud crack jolted me back into focus, and I turned my head toward the door, my blood running cold. The wood was splintering under the weight of whatever was on the other side. They weren't stopping at the man's body—they were coming for us.
Alex and I locked eyes, both of us realizing the same horrifying truth at the same time. If we didn't act, that door wasn't going to hold. They'd be through in seconds.
He didn't say anything, and neither did I. The words weren't necessary; the raw terror in his face mirrored my own, and in that instant, I knew he was as scared as I was.
Without a word, he turned and grabbed one of the chairs from the kitchen, wedging it against the doorknob. I scrambled to my feet, my hands shaking, barely able to keep steady. I grabbed anything I could find, piling it against the door in a desperate attempt to reinforce the weak barrier.
The door shook as the creatures rammed against it, each hit sending a violent jolt through the wood. The splintering grew louder, more frantic, the wood cracking under their weight as they clawed and shoved, desperate to break through.
The only thing separating us from them was that thin door, and as I stared at the jagged cracks forming along the wood, I knew it wouldn't last.
Another impact, harder than the last, shook the whole apartment, and I stumbled back, my heart racing as the door buckled under the pressure.
Alex muttered under his breath, swearing, his face pale as he pushed against the makeshift barricade. "This isn't gonna hold…" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was filled with a fear I had never heard from him before.
I felt my throat tighten as I realized he was right. The door wouldn't last much longer. We were running out of time.
A sudden, desperate thought flashed through my mind: What if this is it?
What if there was no way out, nowhere to hide, and no miracle coming to save us? I had managed to convince myself that I would find a way through, that I would survive this nightmare.
But as the door splintered even more, and the snarls of those creatures grew louder, closer, I felt that last bit of hope slip away.